The Prisoner
by TheMysteriousGuy
Summary: Many, if not all, will understand perfectly. I'm giving you as little information as possible because the story requires it. Don't spoil the ending for anyone that hasn't read it yet. And finally, if you show this to anyone else, don't tell them that it's about what it is.


This is a creepypasta-ish based on a Tumblr discussion I witnessed through the magic of iFunny. It is also my first. Certain people will understand this better than others, and I cannot post this story's true category without screwing up the story itself. Anyway, enjoy.

* * *

He floated around in the darkness, curled up in a fetal mass of flesh. He wanted to take it all back, undo his now useless actions and save himself. _It was going to happen someday,_ he thought hopelessly. The enemy had gotten him, and if the stories were true, he wasn't going back.

He thought on the whole history (or what his kind knew of it) of the enemy. At first, it had been him, his brethren, and the Earth, all living in harmony. There were definitely clashes between individuals, but as a whole, they operated with great enough efficiency to keep themselves alive.

He knew the one that was taken first. The enemy had come down on him with some twisted technology of theirs and spirited him away into their land. The loose band of citizens sent on a rescue mission never returned. So what was his kind supposed to do? Continue life and hope for the best?

The best was not what fate had in mind. The enemy grew stronger, more provocative, and, worst of all, more successful in their captures and raids. They built their dwellings right next to those of their targets, venturing into and through their lands. His kind resorted to hiding until the first battle rung out.

As it turned out, those who were captured were put to use. Through unknown techniques (although he was sure he would find out soon), the captives were re-educated, or brainwashed, or whatever "politically correct" term they had come up with for it. Then, with steroids, restricted diets, careful exercise, and other, more secretive actions, they were made into killing machines. They learned new skills they were unable to before. They were better, faster, and stronger.

They were angry.

The enemy no longer weakened those they wished to take, but instead let their prisoners do it for them. Other than shouting out the occasional command, they did nothing. It was the new, improved creatures that they had changed in their favor that did it all for them.

Anyone who was found was taken. There was no more chance left to it. Many fought back against their former loved ones with sad yet strong determination. Not many of them succeeded. Those who did quickly rose to the ranks of gods, either leading their friends into battle with pride or finding quiet, unreachable places to rest. This was why he was here now. That dream, to become strong and undefeatable like them, was what led him to fight when his old friend tried to beat him into unconsciousness. Well, not tried, but did.

_Why?_ He wondered yet again, thinking about what could drive someone to go against his or her own with such fiery determination. _What incentive does the enemy have?_

Then it hit him.

Intelligence.

They knew something.

They could know of an apocalypse in the near future and were trying to save his kind. They might know the capabilities of his brethren and were seeking to begin trades, although violence was not the best way to show it.

That's when he realized what it truly was. They weren't attacking. Not anymore. It was his friends and family that were bringing the aggression to the battlefield. Someone filled with rage would not easily listen to reason. So it was the taken that were in the right. They wanted his kind to see reason and save themselves. And if his family was in that group…

_I'll help._

No longer was the worry, hopelessness, or despair in his mind. It was replaced with sheer joy and realization that they might all be saved. He was ready to do the right thing. He would make his friends see. He would make them all see. They had to. And if he couldn't, he would have to be stronger. _Maybe even the best,_ he thought.

Now his dream, to rise above the others, was being fulfilled.

He would succeed.

And when he saw the light of day again, he knew that he would be his trainer's best Pokémon.


End file.
